The Ouija Session

by Chris Raven

  We separated and headed for our positions. I felt as if I had swallowed a giant lead marble and, occasionally, I had to stop the bike on the verge to dry the sweat of my hands on the leg of the trouser, but on the other hand, I felt full of strength and confidence. We were prepared and fighting for a fair cause. What could go wrong?

  Every five minutes, I took the walkie to start the test round:

  “This is Eric. All in order.”

  “This is Dave. All the same.”

  “Here Jim. Everything’s OK.”

  “Jake here. Nothing happens. I’m bored. How much longer are we going to be doing this?”

  “As long as it takes, Jake. We’ve already told you that you must leave the channel free. With an “All right” will do.”

  “I know, but this is very boring. Couldn’t we just leave it for a while and come back later?”

  “Jake, the murderer is not going to wait to attack when it suits you well. Keep on patrol and leave the channel free.”

  “This is no use, guys.”

  “Let the channel be free, dammit!”

  That’s how we spent the afternoon. Jake’s complaints increased and were joined by those from his brother after a couple of hours. He said he was tired, it was hot, he was hungry, that his ass hurt to be so long sitting on the bike...

  I felt more and more desperate. We were separated from each other as a group of marines prepared for the fight and, in a single afternoon, we looked like a group of old whining kids. At least Jim was still on my side. We were both joined by the pain of loss. I think we could have kept on patrol forever.

  When the sun began to set, lighting up the surrounding hills with a red tone, we decided to return home. We had promised our mothers we’d be back long before it was dark, and we didn’t want to make them angry. We were meeting the next morning in front of Jim’s house to get back on patrol.

  As soon as I came home, my mother gave me a big hug and announced that we had pizza for dinner. She looked radiant to have us all gathered around the table. Every time I spoke, laughed, or quarreled with Lissie, she smiled with the same charm one would contemplate a miracle with. She must have been really frightened to see me without speaking or reacting for so many days and, even though I had not consciously done so, I promised myself never to worry her so much again.

  When it was time to go to bed, my mother whispered the question that if I was ready to sleep alone or if I preferred to spend the night with them, in her bed. I replied that it was not necessary, that it would be fine. I was twelve years old, I couldn’t sleep in my parents’ bed anymore. That wasn’t the real reason. Even though I was scared to death from just thinking about it, I wanted to see Anne again. Even if she was a ghost, even if she didn’t say anything, although maybe her image was just the proof that I was going crazy, I wanted to have her again in front of me. However, it was not Anne who visited me that night.

  I got into bed and, despite the stifling heat, I covered with the blanket up to my ears. I thought I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep, that the uncontrollable wish to see Anne again would be enough to keep me awake until dawn. However, I was so tired that, just touching the pillow with my head, I fell asleep.

  I don’t know how long it went by until I woke up. I noticed something on my cheek, something cold and wet that slipped. I opened my eyes and felt how my whole body was paralyzed. I couldn’t scream or escape or move a single muscle. I could only breathe, but the air that entered my lungs was not enough. I felt like I was drowning as if a heavy slab was placed on my chest.

  Above me, hovering weightlessly on the bed, was Bobby’s corpse. His hair and clothes swayed by a non-existent stream of water. I could only stand still, looking at his pale skin, his bluish lips... Then he opened his eyes, those eyes of a dead fish that, despite being directed at me, did not look anywhere. I felt my heart stopped, that the air refused to enter my lungs. I thought I was going to die.

  Bobby opened his lips and I could contemplate his tongue, bruised and so swollen that it did not fit into his mouth at all. He stretched his arms towards me and grabbed me by the neck of the pajama shirt, trying to lure me to him. Fortunately, my body was so stiff that he couldn’t move it. He went even closer to me, as he was pulling out that tongue that reminded me of a slug. His breath smelled like them, a sweet and sticky aroma, to moisture and rot.

  From his mouth began to pour out water. It fell on my face, preventing me from screaming or breathing. I tried to shut my mouth not to swallow that dark and corrupted water, but my body was still not obeying me. I was going to die there, I was sure of that. Bobby would kill me and take me with him, to a dark, cold, humid place from which was no escaping.

  A scream of terror tore the silence of the night, causing Bobby to vanish. I realized it was me who was screaming. The paralysis had disappeared, and he was gone, but I could not stop screaming. The light in the room went on. My mother ran in and hugged me, trying to comfort me. My father stood at the door of the room, not knowing how to react.

  “It was Bobby... Was here... He wanted to take me with him...”

  I repeated those sentences over and over again, like a mantra, while my mother hugged me tight and whispered that nothing bad would happen to me. When they got me to calm down, my father accompanied me to the shower, while my mother changed the bedsheets. Everything was drenched. For a moment I thought that everything had been a nightmare and that I had peed in bed. I would have preferred that to be the explanation, even if peeing in bed was a disgrace to a 12-year-old boy. What wet my clothes, my hair and my sheets was a dark liquid, mixed with mud and dry leaves. It was lake water. It couldn’t be anything else.

  When everything was clean, my parents laid me down in their bed. They left the light on and told me to be calm, that they would be next door, in the kitchen, and they would be back soon.

  I heard them talking for a long time in whispers. Although I could not understand their words, I noticed by the tone that mom was very worried. I’m sure that at every moment she was more convinced that she was losing me, that I was going crazy. I thought so too.

  I heard her cry a couple of times and heard dad trying to comfort her. I felt very guilty. I wanted to be able to tell myself that the visions of Anne and Bobby had been only nightmares, that I had imagined the water soaking my rug or my bed, that from that night I would be brave and would not worry them again... But I knew it wouldn’t be so simple. Anne and Bobby had been in my room for real. I didn’t know what they wanted, whether it was justice or revenge, but I knew that they wouldn’t leave me alone until we stopped their murderer.

  IV

  The next morning, we got back together to patrol. At first, we were keen to do it, we believed that that day we would get something. However, as the hours were passing, the spirits were decaying. Hot was so overwhelming that it was even hard to breathe. That August was being one of the hottest and driest in recent years and that day the sun hit Swanton. As the heat increased, the voice messages that we exchanged every five minutes through the walkies were full of complaints.

  “This is Eric. All in order.”

  “This is Dave. I’m tired and I’m hot. Couldn’t we just leave it for a while?”

  “Here Jim. No. We have to keep going until noon. Stop complaining. In my area everything OK.”

  “Jake here. Nothing’s going to happen if we leave it for a while. We could go to the park to throw some baskets or to the river...”

  “This is Eric. Let’s keep going. Leave the channel free.”

  We keep it up till lunchtime. Dave and Jake’s complaints were constant. At times I feared that we could not even keep them with us until noon. I knew that sooner or later we would lose them and that Jim and I would have to keep patrolling the whole town alone.

  When it came time to eat, we went to Dave and Jake’s house together. His mother had prepared a huge fountain of macaroni and cheese for everyone, except for Dave, who was gluten-intolerant or something. I found it very sad to see him
with his plate of vegetables and fish while we ate until we burst. Moreover, I feared that, only among the three, we would not end that source in a lifetime. Fortunately, Jake ate his portion, that of his brother and two more.

  When we finished, we were so full that we found it hard to move. We left the house and sat on the porch, enjoying the shade. The sun was still pounding hard. It was going to be impossible to move Jake and Dave under those conditions and force them to patrol again. Even I, who was dying to find the murderer, so I don’t have to go back to confront the spirits of Anne and Bobby, I thought nothing would happen if we rested for a while.

  We stayed in the shade for a couple of hours, talking nonsense and listening to music, until Jim got tired and, without saying anything, he got up and rode on his bike.

  “I’m going to keep on patrol. Anybody coming?”

  “I’m going too,” I got up and picked up my bike. “What about you?”

  Jake got up reluctantly, grabbed Dave by one arm and made him stand up. I placed myself next to Jake and I slapped him on the back.

  “Come on, I’m sure we got something now.”

  “What are we going to get? The more I think about it, the more ridiculous it seems to me,” Dave complained.

  “We had pledged to do so, at least we are going to continue this afternoon,” Jim intervened, with a frown. “For Anne. For Bobby.”

  We all nodded, rode our bikes and followed him down the street. When we got to Spring Street, we parted to direct each one to our area. The first three hours passed normally. Even Dave and Jake complained less than usual. I think the look they had seen in Jim had again convinced them that what we were doing was important. However, as sunlight was decreasing, and the shadows began to seize the streets, the complaints became the main issue again.

  “This is Eric. All in order.”

  “This is Dave. I’m tired and it’s getting dark.”

  “Here Jim. Everything is OK. Dave, we’re going to go on for one more hour. Agreed?”

  “Jake here. If we don’t get home before nightfall, our mother would kill us.”

  “Here Jim. Just one more hour. It won’t be full night still in an hour. And now leave the channel free.”

  Despite the clicks of the walkie, his voice sounded with a special strength, with an intensity that did not admit replication. Jim wasn’t going to give up, he wasn’t going to retreat. What could the others say to his unwavering will not to leave without justice the death of his little brother? For the next few minutes, we were still on patrol. No one protested again in the messages that we exchanged:

  “Here Eric. No change in my area.”

  “Here Dave. Everything OK.”

  “Here Jim. Everything OK.”

  “Here Jake. Nothing to report.”

  The minutes were passing by. The streets were emptied as the shops closed. It’s been a while since no kid was seen on the street. Although during the day the people of Swanton tried to behave as if nothing was happening, the fear appeared along the arrival of the night. There was a child murderer on the loose and everyone took refuge in their homes, trying to protect their own and to leave evil on the other side of their doors.

  I looked at my watch. There were five minutes left by the end of the deadline that Jim had asked for. I unhooked the walkie from my bike’s handlebar and started the next to last round of reports:

  “Here Eric. Nothing new around here.”

  No answer came, just a silence full of clicks. Although it was still very hot, I felt a glacial cold climbing up my spine.

  “Dave, it’s your turn. Inform.”

  I went back to stay silent, paralyzed on the verge, with the walkie stuck to my ear, trying to hear any answer.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Dave, is that you? Fuck, you scared me, man... We thought something had happened to you.”

  “I’m not Dave. I’m Jake.” Even though he was trying to disguise it, I caught the fear in his voice. “Dave, as you’re playing a joke on us, I’m going to slap you until I fry you. Pick up, bud.”

  We all came back to wait for Dave to answer. He had to answer. Nothing bad could have happened to him. I was trying to convince myself that he would have left the walkie for a moment to go buy something, to talk to someone, to sit quietly somewhere... I preferred to believe any possibility before the one that tried to breakthrough in my mind. However, as much as I struggled to deny that idea, every second I was more confident that it was the right one. I knew Dave well. He was a whiny and a heavy man, but he was a good friend and a responsible guy. He wouldn’t have left us behind without warning us, neither would he do anything foolish without carrying the walkie.

  “Dave, fuck... answer!” Jake’s voice sounded very close to hysteria.

  “Let’s get him. Let’s meet at the entrance of the Marble Mill parking lot.” Jim said.

  I hung the walkie on the handlebar of the bike and pedaled there with all my strength. Inside I kept trying to find a different explanation for Dave not to answer: he had broken the walkie, he had got dizzy because of the heat... Anything that would allow us to get to him, to slap him until death and then laugh all together for the bad time that he had put us through.

  Arriving at the crossroads between Spring and Canada Street all those possible explanations faded, making it understood that we were living in the nightmare we had all feared. His bike was lying on the sidewalk like a dead bug. The walkie was still there, hanging from the handlebar. I looked everywhere in a last desperate attempt to find him, a last effort to deny the obvious. Dave was gone.

  V

  I was still standing in the middle of the road with one foot on either side of the bike, trying to spot Dave, when I saw Jake coming as an exhalation through Greenwich Street. He didn’t even stop. As he passed, he looked for a second the abandoned bicycle of his brother. Then he looked at me. I shook my head, not knowing what to say, and he continued to pedal, even more forcefully, to the Depot Street Bridge.

  I began to follow him and heard a cry behind my back. Jim approached Canada Street and asked us to wait for him. While pedaling, I looked back to shout at him:

  “To the lake. Let’s go to the lake. Fast!”

  Jim nodded, leaned forward on his bike and pedaled with all his strength to reach me. A few seconds later he was already by my side. We continue pedaling to try to reach Jake, who already crossed the bridge over the river. I thought we would never catch him. I feared that he would be the first to come to the lake, he would find the murderer and we would lose him too. Fortunately, he was not able to keep that devilish pace for many minutes and we managed to reach him when he got to Lake Street. We put one behind the other on the verge, trying to move as fast as possible.

  Never in my whole life have I gone faster with a bike. I have grown, I have developed muscle mass, I have trained, I have participated in some other career... I’m sure I’ve never reached the speed we were going at that afternoon. Despair is the most potent fuel.

  We rode Lake Street while the sun was hiding. It began to darken and the reddish, pinkish and orange rays that had fired the day were disappearing. We could still see well the margins of the road, the parched and cracked earth, the yellow and dead grass... The landscape that was dying from the lack of rain was disturbing. The world seemed to indicate that all Swanton was doomed and that trying to resist was futile.

  Upon arriving at Maquam Shore, some cars began to beep when they got ahead of us, making our hearts to jump in the chest. The verge in that area was very narrow and could be dangerous to bike around there. There was a nearby bike path, but we did not want to deviate. We knew that every second was important and that we had to get to the lake as soon as possible, so we continued to pedal, almost to the limit of our strength, feeling that the breathing was increasingly harder and that our muscles began to complain.

  Now and then, I looked up at the sky. Despite my prayers, the day was dying. That gave me strength to go on, even faster, in a crazed race ag
ainst the darkness that was destined to lose. I didn’t want the night had fallen if we met the killer, but there was nothing we could do to change it.

  We stopped for a second to get to the end of Maquam Shore. The lake was already seen behind the neat smallholdings of the houses. Jake took a breath for a couple of seconds, struggling to get enough air to talk.

  “North, right?”

  Jim and I nodded and turned North, to the place where we had found Bobby’s body. As soon as we reached the beginning of the path that ran through the forest, Jake stopped his bike again.

  “Fuck, you can’t see a thing. We’re not going to be able to go with the bikes through there,” commented Jim.

  “But if we walk, we’ll go a lot slower. We have no time.” Protested Jake.

  “We’re not going to be of any use to Dave if we break our necks. Let’s leave the bikes here.” I said, trying to convince him.

  Jake thought about it for a couple of seconds before he got off his bike and left it carelessly in the gutter. He ran among the trees. Jim and I imitated him and ran after him. As soon as we had advanced five steps into the path, we realized that we were right to leave the bikes outside. The treetops were so bushy that they completely hid the dim clarity of the dusk. The road was covered with roots and stones. Although we were trying to move forward carefully and quietly, we stumbled continually.

  In spite of the urgency that seemed to devour him inside, Jake reduced the pace. I stuck to his back and Jim stood behind me, grabbing me by the belt as if he were a frightened child who feared to be lost. It was uncomfortable having him so stuck, but I didn’t tell him anything. I think I was comforted by his presence.

  We walked like that for several minutes. Our eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness and stumbled not so much, so we advanced in silence. During all that time we did not utter a single word. Inside we all knew for sure that we were close and did not want to scare the person who had taken Dave.